It was not in my fate to meet my loverHad I lived longer, this would still be my only desireTo live on your promise is to make my life a lieWould I not have died of happiness if i trusted it

From your frailty I learnt that the promise was delicateIt would not stand broken had you been determinedSomeone ask me about your half-drawn arrowWould i even feel this pain if it had pierced my heart

What kind of friendship is this, that friends are now adviserssomeone should ease my pain, someone sympathize with mefrom every nerve drips blood without restraintas if that which you think is anguish is but a spark

threatening as love is, there is no deliverance from the heartif not the torment of love, it would be the torment of lifewhom shall I narrate the pangs of these evenings of sorrowi would have not resented this death, had it come only once

that I died and was disgraced, why was I not just drownednever was there a funeral, no where was a tomb erectedwho can see him since his Oneness is without peereven the scent of his duality would be an introductionthis mysticism, these statements of yours Ghalibyou would be a saint, if only you were not inebriated

Rubaiyat

Omar Khayyam

Before the phantom of False morning died,Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,“When all the Temple is prepared within,